Courage Doesn't Always Roar
by variia
Summary: September 1, 2017 is a important date. For Harry Potter, it's the day his second child starts at Hogwarts. For fans, it's the last scene in the books.
1. Chapter 1

For Hika, my fellow Hufflepuff and Co-Author for this fic. Happy Birthday!

For September 1st, 2017. 19 years later.

ALSO: this story is a bit AU. Sometime after the War, Hermione and Luna joined forces and wrote the Harry Potter books. Luna was the one that came up with the idea to publish them in the Muggle World. All the proceeds go to a foundation to help orphans and muggleborns.

* * *

' _We're going to be late, Weasleys never seem to get anywhere on time. Even the ones named Potter._ ' Harry thinks with some amusement.

They're trying to get through the crowded Station, James and Albus sticking near him and Ginny keeping a hold of Lily's hand so she won't get lost in the mass of people. Harry looks around some and realizes it's more crowded than normal and that there are a lot of muggles around in House Colors near Platform 9 ¾ which he finds unusual and alarming. As they get nearer he can see that most of them are talking to each other in excitement.

' _Oh, here we go._ ' he thinks in resignation.

Harry is already resigning himself to getting mobbed when he hears two people shouting at each other. When he's by the Entrance he turns and looks, curious despite himself.

One has a Gryffindor scarf on and the other is dressed in a lot of Hufflepuff colors.

"Stop talking shit about Hufflepuff, you jerk!" the Hufflepuff shouts.

Harry startles and stares at them in surprise. Most people still don't think much of Hufflepuff.

"Hufflepuffs are pathetic and can't do anything! At least Slytherin is worth something!" the Gryffindor bellows back.

Harry winces. He doesn't expect this to go well and it doesn't. The Hufflepuff slams a fist in the Gryffindor's face. The Gryffindor stumbles back and stares before running away.

The Hufflepuff, and he really needs something else to call them, shakes out their hand and takes a deep breath. They seemed to have noticed the attention they've drawn and cringes.

They take another breath, walks over to a bench and sits down. They've started looking around and he sees a multitude of emotions pass over their face too quick to decipher. Though shock is a main one. They've noticed him and Harry is very surprised when they take another breath and steel themselves as if they're about to do something unexpected. They get up and march straight to him. They stick their hand out and open their mouth, what comes out surprises him.

"Mister Potter, you don't know me, but I just wanted to say thank you. You gave me a lot of hope growing up." they say.

He's already shaking their hand and he loosens it in shock. He knows he's staring. He's used to being thanked, especially after the War and defeating Voldemort, but not for that. They smile slightly, nod their head, then walk away. Their head held high.

And Harry smiles.

Because bravery and courage isn't just a Gryffindor trait and he's sure that Cedric is smiling too, to see someone so proud to be a Hufflepuff.

Even a muggle.


	2. Chapter 2

This chapter was written by Hika.

* * *

It's fucking two weeks before my semester starts back home in the States, and I have decided to take a fucking lark off to England. Admittedly, I have made some extremely stringent promises to my mother in relation to family history and dropping in on relatives, but that really wasn't what _I_ was here for.

Here being England in general and loitering between Platforms Nine and Ten at the train station on September 1st, 2017 in specific. I very obviously wasn't the only person to take an interest in having my heart crushed in the final solid date in this damn book series. And I _definitely_ wasn't the only individual wearing their House colors with pride. 'Puff for life dude.

I had known that England was going to be dreadful, and so I had wrapped myself in my biggest sweater and crammed a black and yellow beanie on my head. Like hell was I going to be caught without the proper clothing. All that had meant was that it was rather easy to see who was the other Potterheads with the same idea.

It wasn't a bad one. Not at all. 1 September, 2017. And here we are on the platform between Stops Nine and Ten. I, being foreign, female and shy, was content to sit quietly on the bench and wait until noon had come and gone before heading back to my life in America. I people watched. So many with red hair, I thought absently. And then I heard the idiot.

"Hufflepuffs are stupid. Why the hell did J.K. Rowling even make a house like that? It must be where the losers go." And that was it that was all she wrote.

"Stop talking shit about Hufflepuffs you jerk!" I had jerked myself out of my seat to yell at the guy, waving his red and gold scarf around like it was his dick. Ugh, I hate when my voice gets shrill.

"Hufflepuffs are pathetic and can't do anything! At least Slytherin is worth something."

I lost it. I will admit that I have somewhat of a temper, but never have I hit anyone before. The crunch of his nose meeting my fist was rather satisfying. Now, being that I am a tiny American woman, I wasn't expecting to send him to the ground. But there was a definite part of me that was thrilled when he stumbled back and practically ran away. I shook out my hand and then, realizing that Gryffindor dickface and I had drawn attention, shrank back into my seat.

Easy kiddo, I told myself. It's not worth it to punch every idiot in the face. I snickered to myself. Although that particular idiot was worth it.

Taking the moment of respite, I inspect my hand. It's not awful. Definitely smacked the guys harder than my hand, and I leave it alone to breath for a minute. Those redheads are certainly getting more populous, I think again. And then I look _really hard_ at the one group of red haired people. Well damn. There's no way. None at all. It was a _book_ for Chrissake.

Wait. If _they're_ all real, then _Voldemort_ was real. _Death Eaters_. Also, great grampy's stories about shit that happened when he was fighting in World War Two makes a hell of a lot more sense now that you know it's not just PTSD.

Oooooh dear _God in heaven._ That's _Harry freaking Potter._ With his kids. And wife. I'm going to die. Watch me now expire here between platforms Nine and Ten. Not a bad place to go actually. I'm not gonna do it. I swear, I hate approaching American celebs at home, but this was Harry Potter. I grew up with him, and he was always there in a far more fantastic world than mine. I stood up and threaded my way around some stubborn group of other Potterheads.

I had always wanted to be a witch but now that I'm here, the closest I'll ever knowingly be to a wizard, I feel very very small, and very _very_ Muggle.

"Mister Potter, you don't know me, but I wanted to say thank you. You have me a lot of hope growing up" I shake his hand and give him a small smile and a nod. Then I walk away. That was all I needed to say to him. Could I have outed him and his family and the entire Wizarding World? Yeah. Did I need to? Fuck no.


End file.
